


Gouldian Courtship

by MnemonicMadness, vindicatedtruth (behindtintedglass)



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Rating may be subject to change, Romance, Slow Dancing, not so much a drabble anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 01:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13203180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MnemonicMadness/pseuds/MnemonicMadness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/behindtintedglass/pseuds/vindicatedtruth
Summary: “Dance with me.” The words had slipped out, sudden and unexpected, almost unintentional.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because of a conversation on Discord that involved Harold, courtship of Gouldian finches and dancing, so this kinda just happened.

“Dance with me.” The words had slipped out, sudden and unexpected, almost unintentional. They had lain on his tongue before time and time again, and it was with trepidation and relief that he realised somewhat belatedly that this time, they had escaped the safe cage of his teeth.

Across him, lounging on the floor with his back leaning against a shelf, several recently cleaned firearms scattered around him, John looked up from his book, surprised and questioning.

“Dance with me.” Harold found himself repeating.

“Do we have a new number?” John asked, even as he put the book aside, back into the empty slot in the shelf where it belonged. It was a reasonable assumption to make, Harold supposed, since his sudden request was hardly a usual one.

“No, not yet. I merely...” The ease with which the words had fled him was nowhere to be found now, instead his mouth was dry and his tongue heavy as though weighed down with lead, the rushing of blood in his ears almost drowned out by the pounding of his heart.

“I used to quite enjoy dancing, and I haven’t had the opportunity in a while, so I thought, since this seems to be a quiet night for us...” Swallowing didn’t seem to help with the dryness. “Please forget that I said anything Mr Reese, that was not an appropriate request to make of you and I’m not even sure if I’d even still be able to...”

“Okay.”

Harold found himself staring as with a hint of a smile on his lips and warmth in his eyes, John gracefully climbed to his feet and sauntered over, holding a hand out to Harold to help him up.

It wasn’t until John repeated his quiet “Okay.” that whatever invisible bonds that had kept him tied to his chair loosened and he stood, reducing the distance between them so that he could feels the warmth John’s skin radiated through the thin dress shirt, a warmth that seemed to almost sear his palm when he settled it against the slight dip of John’s waist. His free hand found his keybord almost without his conscious input and he typed blindly, before the soft melody of a slow rumba filled the room from the computer’s speakers and his hand was captured in John’s.

He wasn’t entirely sure who pulled whom so close they were almost touching head to toe, it didn’t matter when his world was reduced to the weight of John’s hand on his shoulder and the way their feet found the right steps through muscle memory and the music filling their ears. Against his will, or maybe that wasn’t quite right, more due to the fact that he couldn’t find the presence of mind to fight his will, he allowed his head to rest against John’s shoulder, warm pleasure trickling through him when he felt John’s cheek pressed against his hair. Beneath the pale, fragile skin of his neck, he watched John’s pulse race in unison with his own.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Harold,” John whispered, “would you mind if we change the song?”

Harold blinked, seemingly out of a daze, and John didn’t even try to fight the wave of affection that took over his heart at the sight of Harold so… _vulnerable_ , like this.

His fingers curled at the small of Harold’s back tightly, reflexively.  The urge to protect this man was strong, and John gave in to it.

Gave in to what his heart wanted to sing.

“Of course not, Mr. Reese,” Harold sounded awestruck, breathy, as if he wasn't not quite sure of what was happening, either.  “The song choice is yours.”

Reluctantly, John stepped away from Harold, and he didn’t miss the way Harold’s body automatically leaned forward as if to follow him, and it made John’s heart clench achingly in his chest—he wanted to prolong this moment as much as he could.

Harold… might change his mind, after this.

Carefully exuding a calmness he definitely didn’t feel, he walked over to the computer and typed in the song.

The soft plucking of the strings of an acoustic guitar filled the intimate space of the library, along with the whispered:

_Let me be your hero._

Slowly, he turned to look back at Harold, who was watching him with wide eyes.

_Would you dance if I asked you to dance?_

John smiled, shyly, and offered his hand in silent invitation.

_Or would you run and never look back?_

He held Harold’s gaze, seeing the hesitation and unmasked fear of this unknown, unchartered _change_ that was happening between them, and silently urged him—begged him—to not run away from this.

 _Would you cry if you saw me crying_?

He thought of how Harold had seen him during the lowest of his low—multiple times, in multiple stages of his life, even before they actually formally met for the first time—and remembered how Harold had never, not once, looked at him with revulsion, or godforsaken _pity._

Harold had only ever looked at him with understanding, acceptance, and most of all…

_And would you save my soul tonight?_

… with love.  Just like the way Harold was looking at him, right now.

Harold’s gaze softened, and took John’s hand.

_Would you tremble if I touched your lips?_

He pulled Harold close and let his forehead rest on his, for a moment, sharing a quiet breath together.  Shakily, John reached up to touch the tips of his fingers to Harold’s mouth, and felt an answering smile tug at his own lips when he felt the curve of Harold’s against his hand.

Harold turned his head to press a kiss tenderly to the centre of John’s palm, making both his fingers and his own body curl into Harold’s, shivering.

_Would you laugh?  Oh, please tell me this._

Harold breathed out a nervous chuckle and hid his blushing face in the juncture of John’s neck and shoulder.  Startled—but immensely pleased—at their sudden closeness, John’s hand moved to clasp delicately at Harold’s nape, rubbing the soft skin there comfortingly.

The rough slide of Harold’s scars against his fingertips reminded him soberly of what he was fighting for.

_Now would you die for the one you love?_

He thought of how Harold was terribly romantic, and how he could only express his love with grand gestures—such as faking his own death to protect the one he loved, even if it meant living the rest of his days in crippling loneliness.

He wound his other arm around Harold, holding on tightly.

'You’ll never have to be lonely again,' he wanted to say, the unsaid words chokingly powerful against his throat.  'Not while I’m around.'

_Oh, hold me in your arms tonight._

They started swaying to the music and, to John’s amazement, Harold let  _him_ take the lead.

_I can be your hero, baby._

He didn't know when saving one life above all others had become more important—as a soldier, he had always been taught to value the lives of all citizens equally—but if the world was ending at this very moment, he knew without a doubt whose life he’d save first, regardless of the consequences.

‘I won’t do this without him,’ he vowed, all over again, and sealed that promise with a trembling kiss to Harold’s temple.

_I can kiss away the pain._

He let his hands roam—hesitantly, at first, then more boldly when he received no protest—and letd his fingers map the curvature of Harold’s spine, heart aching in sympathy at the unending pain Harold still dealt with, constantly, everyday.  He knew, instinctively, that with Harold’s connection and resources, he could’ve chosen to undergo further operations that could cure him of this, but had chosen not to, for whatever reason John didn’t understand, but respected.

'You’ve punished yourself enough,' he wants to tell Harold.  'I can’t make the pain go away.'  

'But I can carry it with you.'

_I will stand by you forever._

'Sooner or later both of us will probably wind up dead,' Harold had once told him.  He didn’t know when it had become a comfort, knowing—without a doubt—that it meant he’d be spending the rest of what’s left of his life with Harold.

_You can take my breath away._

He let his lips skim lower, tracing the shell of Harold’s ear, feeling Harold’s frame shudder against him.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

_Would you swear that you’ll always be mine?_

Grace had this for four years, he couldn’t help but think.  The warmth and solidity of Harold’s body, the brightness of his love, the beauty of his soul.

Feeling strangely emboldened, he let his tongue dip inside Harold’s ear, and felt the hot air against his neck as Harold gasped in surprise.

Let me have this now, he thought fiercely.  Now, and always.

_Am I in too deep?  Have I lost my mind?_

He didn't know how exactly he had become an integral part of Harold’s crusade, or how deeply he had gotten entrenched into all the government conspiracies, when all it had been at the beginning was simply a job—to keep himself occupied, to keep himself from veering into dangerous thoughts about himself.

It wasn't that this job was any less dangerous, John thought, it was just that—it was a lot less _lonely._

His mouth slid lower, his teeth gently grazing and nipping the sensitive skin behind Harold’s ear.

His arms tightened when he felt Harold buckle against him.

_I don’t care.  You’re here tonight._

He braced his legs as he kept stepping side to side in time to the rhythm of the music.  His lips skimmed the curve of Harold’s jaw and, to his delight and sudden clenching of his gut in helpless arousal, Harold tilted his head back as far as his neck allowed him to give John more access.

John accepted the offered gift greedily.

_I can be your hero, baby._

He kissed the soft skin of Harold’s throat, gently at first, then with teeth and tongue when he was encouraged by Harold’s quiet moan.

Shaking, he reached up to loosen Harold’s tie and collar.

_I can kiss away the pain._

He didn't know who between them heaved a sigh—it must’ve been a sharing of breath—when his mouth found the exposed skin and lingered there, equal parts tender and territorial.

His hands were trembling as they moved lower, attempting to unbutton Harold’s vest.  He pressed a kiss to Harold’s heart over the clothed skin, marking his claim.

If this was what he got to spend the rest of his life with, John thought in shuddering gratitude, then this—this was his heaven.

_I will stand by you forever._

Harold’s own hands were unfairly steady as they cupped John’s cheeks as Harold moved back to look at him.  Heart hammering against his chest, John held his breath, ready to stop anytime Harold would tell him to.

He could do anything for Harold.  Even this.

_You can take my breath away._

Harold’s eyes were clear and bright when they looked into his.

“Kiss me, John,” he murmured.

_I can be your hero._

John shuddered as he fell into Harold.

He could do that, too.


	3. Chapter 3

His fingers looked pale against the skin of John’s face. The very beginning of stubble was rasping against his palms and he could feel the heat of the blush that was blooming on John’s cheeks and as close as they were, he thought he could see the delicate veins responsible for the lovely colour. The phantom sensation of John’s dry lips was still lingering on his jaw and he felt the wetness his careful licks had left on his throat cool and dry, an almost startling contrast to the heat sizzling between them, physical and metaphorical.

“Kiss me, John” he murmured and noted with delight the shudder that raced through the other’s body as he leant in, stormy blue eyes dazed before they fell shut, with an air of helplessness.

The kiss was soft and much gentler than expected after the attention John had lavished on his neck only seconds - or perhaps hours? - ago. His heart gave a painful twinge when he felt the hesitance in John’s every movement, as if he wasn’t sure that this was allowed, that Harold would gladly keep hold of him and allow him anything his heart desired. As if he expected to be rejected, expected Harold to change his mind and deny him.

And to his shame, he almost did when his sanity - or was it the part of him that saw fit to punish himself, to deny himself this, the thing he had longed for for longer than he wanted to admit - made a last, desperate attempt to regain control. Because his earlier concerns were still valid, no matter how warm and pliant John was against him. He was taking advantage, it whispered. John may have been physically far superior, but he was vulnerable in every other way. There was no way for him to protect himself from the power Harold knew he had over him and what if this wasn’t what John truly wanted? Harold would never forgive himself...

It barely registered to him that he had already begun to close himself off again until he was pulling away even though every fibre of his being wanted nothing more than to keep tasting John’s lips, like his desire for John was running so deep that it had become part of his DNA, of his very molecular structure. It may as well have been, for how natural, _essential_ it felt.

He opened his eyes, guarded and glad they were hidden behind his thick glasses and watched as John’s fluttered and blink open. His long eyelashes were throwing shadows against his sharp cheekbones and Harold wanted to spend a whole day just looking at them, counting them.

It took but a fraction of a second for John to recognise the look in Harold’s eyes once his own met them and he could see the moment it happened. John flinched, physically, as though he’d been slapped and he could feel this too where his hands were still cupping John’s cheeks, where the oh so tempting blush was still warming his fingers. He looked startled and hurt, pain and remorse and vulnerability at war in those too expressive eyes of his and Harold longed to move back in and kiss that awful look away. He wanted to go to his computer and hit replay and start dancing again, to force the earlier levity back where the air between them had grown heavy now. He wished he’d never asked him to dance. He wished he’d never stopped kissing him.

 _Just ask_ , a voice that sounded suspiciously like Nathan’s scolded him from the back of his mind. He took a deep breath and stopped John when he hesitatingly began to pull back because even if he might be doing irreparable harm to their relationship, to John’s psyche, if he had misread this entire situation, he selfishly couldn’t bear the thought of more distance between them. He hoped that the way he also couldn’t stop stroking his thumbs over John’s cheeks might provide some reassurance in the meantime.

“I know what you were made to do during your time in the agency, and I would never want to...” His voice sounded scratchy and almost foreign to himself and he swallowed before finally asking “Am I taking advantage of you?”

Understanding was blossoming in John’s eyes and relief grew from it, mirrored by the sudden lightness in Harold’s own chest because he already knew the answer and he wanted to kiss him again. He didn’t, not yet. If he were to, he didn’t know if he would be able to stop again until they were both breathless, until he had John bare and falling apart with pleasure in his arms, until they would fall asleep much later, sated and safe and still holding one another close.

John was shaking his head, careful as to not dislodge Harold’s hands, but with vehemence colouring the motion nonetheless. “No, Harold. I know you’d never do that.” Blessedly, he moved impossibly closer until Harold felt surrounded by his warmth, leaning their foreheads together. 

“I want you.” he whispered, his breath caressing Harold’s lips. “God, Harold, you have no idea how much I want you. How long I’ve been wanting to do this, to kiss you and hold you. Every day, every time you talk or just look at me or smile... God, your _smile_...”

The hitch in his breath stole the last of Harold’s composure and oh, this kiss was nothing like the first one. There was no hint of insecurity or hesitance now and John opened his mouth as if he were begging for Harold to explore it, to lick out any lingering trace of coffee and the apple he had eaten a few hours before, until there would be no taste left other than the one he already recognised as purely, uniquely _John_.

And he pressed his answer into the kiss, his _I know because I want you just as much_ into a teasing nip with his teeth, his _I know because I’ve been wanting you, dreaming about you, longing for you for just as long_ into a twist of his tongue that made John shudder under his hands again, his moan swallowed by the both of them because neither could remember anymore where one ended and the other began.

And he smiled into John’s lips when John easily, eagerly yielded when Harold steered them towards their break room with the gentlest push.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

“This,” John said hoarsely as the man in his arms began to unbutton his shirt with a focused determination normally reserved for saving the Numbers, “this is all your fault, Harold.”

He happily let himself be shut up as Harold cut him off with a moan and a kiss.

“For asking you to dance?” Harold asked with a smirk when he pulled back, and despite the haze of his arousal, John was pleasantly taken back at seeing this wonderfully _playful_ side of his partner.

His gaze grew heated.Two could play at this game.

“For teaching me to _want_ ,” he rasped.He bracketed Harold’s face between his palms as his voice pitched low with seduction—and emotion.“For so long I’ve been taught to make sacrifices.In the military, in the CIA, I’ve been taught to make do with so _little._ ”

He watched, mesmerised, the way Harold’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.“And now?”

“Now,” John whispered as he leaned in and gently rubbed his nose against Harold’s, smiling when his breath fogged up the other man’s glasses.“Now, I’ve learned to want more than what I deserve.”

He hadn’t realised his eyes had fallen close until he felt Harold’s fingers caressing his cheeks.

“John,” Harold said softly, but firmly.“You must know, you can have _anything_ you want, and you _deserve_ it all.”

He shivered at that proclamation.He wondered if Harold knew just how dangerous that promise was, because John wanted _everything_.

His thumb stroked over Harold’s lip, watched the way it glistened wetly as Harold darted out his tongue to taste.

Right now, John wanted _Harold._ All of him.Every part.

He hadn’t felt this voracious before, and it was all because Harold—Harold gave him permission to _want_ this.

“Harold,” John murmured as the initial notes of another song began to play in the background.“How do finch courtships work?”

Harold blinked at him owlishly from behind his thick-rimmed glasses.John waited patiently, wondering if Harold would humour him.

“Why, with a dance of course,” Harold answered innocently. 

“Well,” John grinned.“We got that part down.What’s the next stage?”

Harold tilted his head, a slow, challenging smile spreading across his face, brightening his features, reminding John of who he must’ve been before he began to _hide._

“A song,” Harold declared.

John smirked.Challenge accepted.

Harold blinked again when John suddenly released him.It was just as well that the next song was an instrumental.

He stepped back, spread his arms wide, and began to sing.

“ _I found a love for me._ ”

Harold looked so surprised that John wanted to tell him: _you deserve this too._

“ _Darling, just dive right in,_ ” he bowed down low, glancing up at Harold from beneath his lashes.“ _Follow my lead._ ”

He stepped forward again, pushing an imaginary lock of hair behind Harold’s ear.“ _I found a girl, beautiful and sweet._ ”

“Wrong gender, Mr. Reese,” Harold said dryly, making John laugh.

“ _I never knew you were that someone waiting for me._ ”

His gaze turned soft, fond, serious.All those times when he was lost, he had always known he had a guardian angel somehow, watching over him.

Perhaps all this time, he had simply been waiting to be found.

“ _‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was._ ”

He remembered the sweetness of Grace’s smile, and thought of how it reminded him so much of Jessica’s.

He thought of these two women Harold and himself once loved, respectively, at a time when everything was simpler.

When being happy was once so easy.

“ _I will not give you up this time._ ”

He thought of everything he had to give up just to get to this moment, and his heart clenched.

It was all _worth it._

“ _Darling, just kiss me slow.Your heart is all I own._ ”

John leaned forward to kiss him, chastely, sweetly, murmuring the lyrics against Harold’s lips.His fingers drifted down, as they were wont to do, to rest over Harold’s chest.

“ _And in your eyes, you’re holding mine._ ”

He held Harold’s gaze, knowing that neither of them could anymore deny that they held each other’s hearts.

His chest suddenly felt like it was expanding inside his ribs, and to distract himself from how his lungs were drowning from how much he was _feeling_ for this man, he pulled Harold close to him, one hand on the small of his back and the other holding Harold’s hand.

He had to do this courtship right, after all.

“ _Baby, I’m dancing in the dark with you between my arms._ ”

He nudged Harold meaningfully, and with an affectionate sigh, Harold placed his other arm on John’s shoulder, effectively taking on the role of the lady in this dance.

John grinned.

“ _Barefoot on the grass._ ”

“We’re in the _Library_ , Mr. Reese,” Harold huffed, and John’s shoulders shook in silent laughter, nearly unable to sing the next line clearly.

“ _Listening to our favourite song._ ”

He leaned his forehead against Harold’s, gently crooning the next words to him.

“ _When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath, but you heard it…”_

He saw the way Harold seemed to hold his breath, eyes widening, and John knew Harold _understood_ what he was trying to say through his song.

This was how they loved.Constantly listening. 

_Always._

“… _darling, you look perfect tonight._ ”

Harold’s eyes were beginning to glisten before he rapidly blinked it away.Before John could say anything however, it was Harold who stepped back this time.

Fear gripped John’s heart once again before he saw the way Harold looked at him.

The older man straightened his rumpled clothes and looked straight into John’s eyes, and John realised belatedly with a wave of amusement: his little bird of a billionaire refused to be one-upped in this courtship.

He began to sing too. 

In _Italian._

“ _Sei la mia donna.”_

John had to laugh softly at that.He supposed he deserved that for calling Harold a girl earlier.

“ _La forza delle onde del mare._ ”

John swallowed as Harold’s strong tenor reverberated around him, vibrating down to his bones.

‘You’re the strong one, Harold,’ he wanted to say, but if Harold thought so highly of his strength, then John would use every last ounce of it for _him._

“ _Cogli i miei sogni e i miei segreti molto di più.”_

John nodded and smiled, fighting the lump that was forming in his throat.Harold’s gaze turned both passionate and tender, and he was gesturing to him as he sang.

John did understand.This crusade of Harold’s, his dream to save _everybody_ , and what it cost to put this impossibly idealistic dream into motion… John will be by his side through it all.

“ _Spero che un giorno, l’amore che ci ha accompagnato_ …”

This time John did hold his breath.What Harold was saying… the promise of a _someday…_

John felt his own vision blurring and he furiously blinked it away, too.His smile was trembling as he pressed his lips together.

It meant… Harold was already imagining a future with _him._

“… _diventi casa, la mia famiglia, diventi noi._ ”

John couldn’t help it anymore.He stepped forward, not wanting any more distance between them.

Harold should know: he had always been John’s family.

His _home._

“ _E siamo sempre bambini ma…”_

John chuckled at that as Harold gave in to John’s silent beckoning, and easily slipped into their dancing roles, John once more taking the lead.

“ _… nulla è impossibile…”_

John’s fingers trace the invisible scars on Harold’s back, hidden beneath his layers of expensive clothes.

They were technically dead men, both Harold and himself, and yet impossibly, against all odds, they were here now, with each other, still wondrously, miraculously _alive._

John had once never believed that second chances existed—until that impossible gift was given to him by Harold.

“ _… stavolta non ti lascerò.”_

No, John thinks with an ache in his chest, that wasn’t what worried him anymore.He knew that no matter how much he’d try to push Harold away, no matter how much he’d try to run _away_ from him… Harold would always come after him.

Harold would always _find_ him.

“ _Mi baci piano ed io, torno ad esistere…”_

He clutched Harold tighter against him as Harold continued to sing against his chest, resting his head gently on John’s shoulders as they swayed to the music.

What worried John was how long they would be able to do this—saving each other, bringing each other back to life—before their luck would eventually run out.

“ _… e nel tuo sguardo crescerò.”_

John closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the crown of Harold’s spiky hair.He felt Harold smile against his neck.

He didn’t know if they’d ever actually grow old together—they weren’t young men anymore anyway—but no matter how long he’d have this, the rest of his days now belonged to Harold.

He began to kiss his way down: from Harold’s temple, his ears, his jaw, his throat.

He felt the vibrations against his lips as Harold continued to sing, his colourful tenor filling the entire room.

“ _Ballo con te, nell’oscurità…”_

John breathed deeply, letting Harold’s voice fill the cracks of his heart, letting it brighten the shadows of his soul.

 _“Stretti forte poi, a piedi nudi noi…_ ”

“You still have your shoes on, Harold,” John pulls back to point out at him, and John grinned at the way Harold rolled his eyes.

“ _Dentro la nostra musica.”_

Harold’s gaze turned serious.He cupped John’s face in both hands, and the way Harold looked at him then made John feel like he was holding the secrets of the world—and Harold had just discovered them.

Harold _loved_ discovering secrets, after all.

John’s eyes widened at that realisation.

“ _Ti ho guardato ridere e sussurrando ho detto..”_

John was running out of air as Harold leaned up to whisper against his lips, and John inhaled the words Harold sang into his mouth.

“ _… tu stasera, vedi sei perfetta per me._ ”

John’s arms wound around Harold’s shoulders and back as he dove in, tongue slipping past the gasp of Harold’s lips to twine against Harold’s, sliding in a sensuous dance.He licked up into the cavern of Harold’s mouth, tracing the ridges of Harold’s teeth, coaxing Harold’s tongue to follow his and closed his own lips around it, swallowing Harold’s moan as he suckled Harold’s tongue into his own mouth.

Harold’s fingers gripped his lapel in protest when John broke their kiss.John had never run out of breath like this before—not even when he was fighting for his life, or when he was _running_ for his life—and never before had he felt so happy to _drown_ like this _._

He licked his lips, relishing the taste of _Harold_ on his tongue, fascinated by the flush that crept up Harold’s neck as Harold’s gaze seemed locked on his mouth.

“John?” Harold’s breathy voice sounded wrecked, and a shot of pure lust electrified John’s spine as he realised _he_ did that to Harold.

John smiled mysteriously.His little billionaire bird seemed to have conveniently forgotten that he was an international spy.

He _knew_ Italian, too.

“ _Ballo con te,_ ” John sang clearly, and Harold laughed.

“ _Nell’oscurità, stretti forte poi, a piedi nudi noi…_ ”

John’s baritone blended seamlessly with Harold’s tenor, and John smiled at how they fit perfectly like this, in every single way.

He traced the outline of Harold’s eyebrows, the soft skin under his eyes, his cheekbones, his nose, loving the crow’s feet that feathered Harold’s temples as he smiled.

“ _Dentro la nostra musica,_ ” John sang softly, and Harold did the same exploration of John’s face, as if he’s mapping each curve, each wrinkle, each bump, each scar, cataloging him, _memorising_ him.

John had never wanted so badly to be _known,_ like this.

“ _Ho creduto sempre in noi…”_ Harold murmured, and John nodded, not anymore fighting the tears that wetted his lashes.Harold’s gaze softened as he caught the tears in his fingers, wiping them gently away. 

“ _Perché sei un angelo e io ti ho aspettato…_ ”

John caught the hand that wiped his tears and brought it to his mouth, kissing each fingertip and tasting the saltiness of his own tears as he licked it all away.

“ _Quanto ti ho aspettato…_ ” John brokenly confessed, and Harold’s fingers moved to John’s jaw, tilting his chin, silently asking him to look at him.

“ _Perché tu stasera…_ ” Harold sang softly.

Not just tonight, John thought as a pure, unknown joy erupted in his heart.

For _always._

“ _… sei perfetta per me._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English translation to the Italian lyrics by Andrea Boccelli:
> 
> _You’re my woman  
>  The strength of the waves of the sea  
> You understand my dreams, even more so my secrets  
> I hope that one day the love that has been with us  
> Will become home, my family; it’ll become us_
> 
> _We’re still kids but  
>  Nothing is impossible  
> I won’t leave you this time  
> You kiss me slowly and I come back to life  
> And in your eyes I’ll grow up_
> 
> _I dance with you, in the darkness  
>  Holding tight, barefoot  
> Inside our music  
> I watched you laugh and whispered:  
> You see, you’re perfect to me tonight_
> 
> _I dance with you, in the darkness  
>  Holding tight, barefoot  
> Inside our music  
> I’ve always believed in us  
> Because you’re an angel and I’ve waited for you  
> I’ve waited for you so long  
> Because tonight, you’re perfect to me_
> 
> —
> 
> You can listen to the duet with Ed Sheeran [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eiDiKwbGfIY)  
>   
> Happy New Year, Team POI. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked this tiny thing. Comments are my lifeblood!


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